Eyes Open
by Lacadiva
Summary: Wounded Neal and Diana, waiting for Peter to find them, try to keep each other talking, keep each other alive.


EYES OPEN

By

Lacadiva

Summary: Wounded Neal and Diana, waiting for Peter to find them, try to keep each other talking, keep each other alive.

~WC~

" _Neal…"_

" _Neal!"_

"NEAL! Eyes open!"

Eyes opened. Like a shock. Like a fight. Like life depended on it.

Teary, blurry crystal blue surrounded by bloodshot red roamed anxiously seeking something upon which to focus. Thanks to thin light breaking through fist size holes in soot-clouded windows, his eyes found and settled upon hers. Rich sable brown, both hard and soft, both angered and relieved, both foreign and familiar. He smiled until pain reminded him that he had no good reason to do so.

"Di…?"

His head was resting in her lap. She was sitting upon the floor, her back against the rusting corrugated metal wall, looking down at him.

"How long was I out?"

"Five seconds…five seconds too long. Remember what I said." More an order than a question.

"Stay awake…" he said, like a mantra.

His eyeballs drifted up again, rolling back, revealing only pinkish white, as his lids began to narrow.

"CAFFREY! EYES OPEN! EYES OPEN NOW!"

"Open…they're open…see?"

Eye opened wide, exaggeratedly, almost comically. Diana would have laughed if their mutual circumstance had been different. If neither of them weren't slowly bleeding out from gunshot wounds. If neither of them were locked in this ancient, rusted room inside a long forgotten warehouse. No phone signal. No way out. No hope.

"Not a good time…" Neal slurred.

"For what, Caffrey?"

"T'be off-anklet."

"Not your fault."

Diana shifted, hoping to cure the heavy numbness that was settling into her legs where Caffrey's head rested. Both winced from pain, cried out. Neal grabbed his bleeding side —- only a handkerchief to stem the torrent of blood, now saturated — and tucked inward, struggling to breathe. Diana reached for her wounded shoulder, seeing stars and cursing under her breath.

"This is a suck-place to die," she said through grinding teeth.

Neal turned back to look up and noticed that her face had gone pale.

"Then don't die," he said, and reached for her hand, her good hand, the one that held her wound, and squeezed tightly. Their blood, warm and freshly exposed, slick between their palms and fingers, had tinted their flesh completely red.

"Eyes open," he said. Begged.

Eyes opened and found his.

"I'm okay," she said, forcing the words out.

He had heard Diana's voice calling his name several times as he negotiated his way back to consciousness, fought to focus on the world of the living.

But why return to this world, he asked himself. This world was hell, a dark, musty warehouse, a home to stagnant pools and audible drips, to vermin and other four-legged squatters who scurried into the shadows to tremble and wait for the human intruders to leave. This world had cold, damp floors and smelled of spilt blood and death…

 _Clichè only becomes cliché because it keeps happening_ , Neal thought.

He looked up again and saw her eyes quite shut.

"EYES OPEN…stay awake..." Neal muttered.

"I am!"

"You weren't."

"I am now!"

Even in this predicament, even under the threat of dying, she was ever the fighter.

"Where's the cavalry? Where's Peter?" Neal did not mean to ask out loud.

"He's coming," Diana said. "We both know that."

"Yeah. He's tearing up Manhattan trying to find us."

"No stone left unturned."

He coughed, making pain, like volume, turned its self on high, racking his body. Her good arm fought to pull him closer as if it could deter death, send it running. Keep Neal safe.

Once calm, he said, just above a whisper, "What's taking so long?"

She didn't dare answer him. Couldn't.

"I need to sit up, Diana."

"You should keep still."

She tightened her arm around him. He was warmer earlier. The cold from the floor was radiating up, chilling his limbs. She wanted to believe that was why Neal was beginning to feel so cold.

"No…" he insisted. "I don't want to die on his floor…"

"You won't die…"

"…in rat piss and God knows what else…"

"Maybe you should've gotten shot at the Four Season!"

"I want to sit up, Diana."

Grinding his teeth, preparing himself for the pain that would come, he pushed...tried to push up from the floor. And cried out.

"Easy!" Diana pleaded.

She gave him what strength she could, what she herself had left to spare, to help him pull himself up from where he lay. He cried out again as he eased beside her, back against the cool wall.

"I said easy!" she admonished him.

"Sorry..." said Neal, just trying to catch his breath. "Not good with easy."

"You don't have to apologize."

"Shot guy doesn't have to apologize. Is that a rule?"

"If it isn't, it should be."

She nudged him, and the message was received – he let himself lean upon her, heads touching.

"How's the shoulder?" he asked.

"Through and through. Aches like toothache. A really big toothache."

"You want to try to stand up again?"

"Gimme a minute," she said. The effort to stand was overwhelming; she was not yet ready to face the truth of her inability to save them.

Neal was beginning to shiver. She put her good arm around him and tried to rub vigorously, hoping to get his circulation going, bring warmth back to him.

"Is this doing anything for you?" she asked.

Neal laughed; she'd touched on a memory.

 _The bar of an upscale hotel…_

 _Diana, undercover as a call girl…_

 _A hand upon his tie…sitting upon his lap…popping a tart strawberry into his mouth…"Is this doing anything for you?"_

"Absolutely nothing," he answered, just as she had answered him then.

She stopped abruptly when the memory came racing back to her.

 _The hotel room, the white robes, the secret paintings…_

Diana laughed and gave him a nudge, instantly regretting it when Neal winced.

"You're okay, Caffrey."

"I'll be fine."

"No…I mean…you're okay. Never thought I'd say it out loud, or to you, but you've been a good friend."

"I'm honored," said Neal, smiling. "Feel the same way about you."

"You don't have to."

"Too late."

"I mean, you don't have to say something nice because I said something nice. Just take it."

Neal nodded, kept silent. Just took it.

"I gave you a hard time," she said, "because deep down, I didn't want to like you."

"I know."

"Making friends with convicted felons…not my habit. Or with slick guys who think they're entitled to whatever or whomever they want. Turns out you were different. Still a criminal, but I respect you."

Silence…

"Okay…now you can say something about me."

Neal laughed, winced.

"Well?" she asked, waiting.

"I'd slay a dragon for you."

The words hung suspended in the air for a few heart beats, then both began to laugh.

"Haven't seen to many of them, Caffrey, so you're safe."

~WC~

The world kept turning. Time moved forward.

Peter still had not appeared.

Neal woke, holding his breath, and gasped. _Not yet_ , he thought. Not yet. Neal fleetingly imagined what death would feel like, and felt his heart rate quicken, his breath shorten.

 _Concentrate on something else._

 _Diana._

"Diana…EYES OPEN!"

Eyes opened to thin slits, registering very little. A nudge, and full consciousness returned.

"How long was I out?"

Her voice was weak, thin.

"I don't know. I was out, too."

"We have to stay away. Keep talking, Caffrey."

"About…what?"

"Anything. Art. Wine. Old girlfriends. Tell me about growing up in Witsec. Caffrey? CAFFREY!

"YEAH! WITSEC. Peter told you?"

"He tells me everything."

"'Course he does…" He began to drift, head lowering.

"NEAL!"

"I can't…"

"You have to. This is all your fault, Caffrey."

"How…?"

"What you did was stupid."

"I tripped."

"You _pushed_ me."

"I fell against you."

"I missed the shot!"

"And he missed you!"

"He didn't miss YOU, Neal! And for the record, I still got a round through the shoulder."

"I didn't know there was a second guy!"

Silence.

"I'm sorry," said Neal. "You're right. My fault. Sorry."

"Shot guy…"

"…doesn't apologize."

Silence.

"I should've been more careful," Diana confessed. "I should've anticipated the second guy. That bullet in your side was meant for me. When I saw you go down… I don't need you trying to save me. You've done enough."

"Excuse me?"

She took a deep breath. Hated when she accidentally wore her heart upon her sleeve. It was not usually her nature.

"Diana…?"

"Anyway you'd let me off the hook for this one, Caffrey?" she asked.

"Not on your life."

She stared off, hoping that the F.B.I. would come clamoring up the metal stares, kick the door down and rescue them before she had a chance to answer.

"I only mean…before you, we were a pretty staid bunch. Peter, Jones, even me."

"Especially you," Neal added.

"Whatever. Everything was mortgage fraud, magazine subscription scams and petty thefts until Neal Caffrey came along. Suddenly we're weeding out bad cops, bad Feds and bad marshals. Peter's undercover, I'm pretending to be a call girl and a smoking hot assassin…"

"Smoking hot assassin?"

"Yes. And Jones is wear real silk ties and drinking top shelf…"

She stopped for a moment and sought out his eyes.

"Sometimes, I feel like I ought to say thanks."

Neal nodded, couldn't help but smile.

"My turn?" he asked.

She nodded.

He cleared his throat, hoping not to let emotion get the best of him.

"I never thought I'd experience family again."

That was as far as he could go.

Silence again, until:

"I'm tired."

"No, Neal. Neal. Eyes open! Neal! EYES OPEN! NEAL!"

Then she heard it. Sirens from far away. Getting closer. Getting louder.

 _Please be Peter. Please be Peter…_

*WC*

And then he woke abruptly to a smell he abhorred…

"Hospital," he mouthed.

It hurt to move. It hurt not to move. It hurt to be alive.

 _He was alive._

He looked about the room, and his eyes fell upon a glorious visage.

A beautiful woman in hospital whites, a white blanket around her legs, wearing a shoulder sling, sitting in the chair next to his bed, fast asleep.

Eyes opened. Met his.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey. Looks like we made it."

"Yep."

His eyes locked upon the sling.

"How bad?"

"Couple weeks of therapy, I'm told. I'll be back to chasing bad guys."

"Thanks for the warning," he said, smiling.

"How you feeling, Caffrey?"

"Good stuff's wearing off. What did the doctor's say?"

"No vital organs. You're gonna be sore a while. You'll be back to thieving again before you know it."

"Good to know."

Silence.

"They caught them," said Diana. "Those two aren't going anywhere for a very long time."

"Great. Way to go, Peter. Is he here?"

"You missed him. He was here for hours, days. Elizabeth finally dragged him home."

"I'm glad you're here."

"Somebody has to make sure you don't run, Caffrey."

And then she did something he had become accustomed to while they were in peril. She took his hand. No blood this time, only warmth.

"Sleep," she told him. "I'll be here when you wake up."

"'kay."

Eyes closed.

FIN.

Thanks so much for reading this. If you were moved at all, please be kind and write a review.


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